


And send me safely back again

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Multi, Revolutionary War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 02:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Our storyreallybegins when Continental soldier Tommy Vietor gets shot.





	And send me safely back again

**Author's Note:**

> This AU began way back in February, originating, as many good things do, with tags from [extendedscreeching](https://extendedscreeching.tumblr.com/post/171044593609/why-dont-we-have-a-regency-au-in-podsa-fandom) about my favorite fictional character Felicity Merriman. What followed was a lot of yelling at Screech and then at Katy and Maggie. 
> 
> These revolutionary ladies waited patiently for all these months as I got sidetracked by their various alter-egos, but finally, with lots of encouragement from the aforementioned friends and lots of help and encouragement from Sev, I'm setting them free. 
> 
> ([playlist for reading if you're into that kinda thing](https://8tracks.com/everyonewillsee/and-send-me-safely-back-again))

**Williamsburg, Virginia: 1772**

“Tommy! Tommy wait!” Favs calls, tripping over her skirts as she follows her best friend back into the gardens. Tommy sighs exaggeratedly as she pauses at the hedge, her own skirt held up around her ankles with one hand. “Mother says it’s not ladylike to run.”

“So?” Tommy looks utterly unimpressed when Favs catches up to her. “I don’t want to be a lady.” 

“But… you have to. You have to act like a lady to get a husband.” Tommy rolls her eyes and sets off again, at a slightly more sedate pace. 

“First of all, you have no idea how the world outside the Governor’s Palace works. Second, maybe I won’t get married.” Favs is eighty percent sure Tommy pauses on purpose to leave space for her gasp of shock but she gasps nonetheless. “Papa says I could be a schoolteacher.” 

“My mother says your papa…” Favs starts automatically. 

“I know what your mother says,” Tommy interrupts. “Everyone says.” The mild-mannered professor lets his only daughter run wild, untamed by a mother’s hand. He fills her head with ridiculous notions and lets her read things that no well-mannered fourteen-year-old girl should be thinking about. It’ll be the ruin of her and she’s so pretty, such a waste. 

“Sorry.” They’re quiet for a minute, moving towards the swing set in the very back of the estate. When they’re perched on it, Favs asks timidly, “what _do_ you want to be Tommy?” 

“I don’t know. If I could choose… If I were a boy,” she says ruefully. “I think I’d want to be a writer.”TT

“Like… novels?” Favs screws up her face in confusion. Novels also are not ladylike.

Tommy laughs. “Maybe. But I mean like, essays, observations on the way things should be. I’ve been reading _The Rights of the British Colonies_ and he pulls all of these ideas from the philosophers like Locke and Rousseau and applies it to the current government.” 

“But _why_?” Favs asks skeptically. “The government is simple. The king and Parliament make decisions and then people like my father and the burgesses carry them out and keep everything in line.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t.” Tommy’s eyes light up. “Power is originally and ultimately in the people; and they never did in fact freely, nor can they rightfully make an absolute, unlimited renunciation of this divine right,” she quotes.

“What on earth does that mean?” 

“It means... It means that people ought to have a say in the way the government operates, all people. And the king has no more right to power than anyone else, especially if he’s not doing a good job.”

“Thomasina Vietor!” Favs snaps. “You can’t say things like that. Not, not ever. Especially not here.” She gestures towards the palace.

“Right, sorry.” Tommy looks chastened. “It’s true though,” she adds sullenly. 

Favs chooses to ignore that. If Tommy’s going to say treasonous things, she’s certainly not going to encourage it by responding. “I’m getting a new dress for my birthday party,” she announces. 

Tommy sighs and sits back against the swing. “Okay. How much lace is it going to have?”

 

 

**Germantown, Pennsylvania: October 4, 1777**

Tommy is going to die on a muddy field in Pennsylvania. She anticipated this, it’s okay. But fuck, she underestimated how much it would _hurt_ to be shot. Her side is on fire and there’s still so much noise everywhere. It’s hard to tell how a battle is going when you’re in it, but she suspects they’re losing.  

Her eyes are closing and she’s wondering if it’s really true that she’ll see her parents again. Papa will be so angry that she ran away and pretended to be a man to join the army. He’d understand eventually, she’d decided, lying awake in camp one night three months ago. He was a patriot, he’d understand her need to do this. 

She wishes. She doesn’t wish Favs were here, she wants her to be far far away. But if Tommy has a regret it’s not that she has only one life to give for her country, but that she never told Favs goodbye and now she’ll never get to. At least no one’s waiting for her at home. 

Just as her mind starts to go quiet, there are rough hands on her shoulders and excruciating, blinding pain.

 

***

 

Jon Lovett hates being a nurse for the continental army. She’s good at the medical stuff, doesn’t mind the sight of blood or the stench of the battlefield; things that make her valuable. Yet, as an orderly had snapped at her yesterday, she has no fucking bedside manner, which seems to be most of what’s required of her. 

When she’d turned down the third proposal, her frustrated father had told her she’d better either pick a man or pick a job and not make any more trouble. Every man she’s ever met is the worst and she doesn’t think she can teach, so she started volunteering at the hospital in Philadelphia until she proved herself enough that they paid her a little. When the war came to town she felt a pull to the fields, although her interactions with soldiers have done nothing to explain why.

There’s a battle going on now and she’s been left behind in the field hospital. The doctor has rushed out onto the field and she’s the only one in the tent when the pack of men comes in with a makeshift stretcher made out of a blanket.

“He’s pretty bad off!” one of them calls as she points them to the cot in the corner. “We found him on the field while we were retreating.”

Lovett shoos them away once they’ve set the soldier on the cot. He’s young, probably her own age or even younger. He looks like he’s probably quite attractive under the dirt, not that she cares.

“Shit, his sweetheart letter,” someone says behind her as the men back away to let her work. She grabs a knife to carefully slice his shirt away, its crusted with blood and dirt and there’s another layer of fabric underneath and _oh shit_.

Lovett whirls on the men still clustered in the tent, “Out out out!” When they exit, murmuring amongst themselves, she turns her focus back to the soldier, _the_ _girl_ , on the bed. Well fuck. So much for not making any trouble.

It’s terrifying to have someone’s life entirely in your hands. Lovett’s not entirely sure what the army will do if they find out her patient is actually a woman but she has a sense that it’s not good. So she goes to extreme lengths to keep the girl’s secret.

The bullet went straight through her side thank god. Lovett knows how to clean and stitch the wound up and then she just prays nothing goes wrong while she insists to the doctor that this poor soldier boy is beyond help and he’s not worth the doctor’s time and she’ll just keep him as comfortable as she can.

A few days later she’s sitting by the girl’s bed, trying to figure out what the hell she’s going to do when the field hospital packs up tomorrow. She’s looking at the pale face in front of her, willing someone, something, to give her an answer when the girl shakes violently and her eyes fly open. She sits up too quick and winces in pain and Lovett knows she has to be freaked out that she’s been discovered, but why must these soldiers all be such idiots?

“Hey hey hey,” Lovett says in what she hopes is a soothing voice. She’d better pick up some bedside manner on the fly because if she doesn’t calm this girl down she’s going to pull out all the stitches Lovett worked so hard on. “Hey dumbass, will you calm down!” As an afterthought she adds, “please?”

Her patient stares at her, wild-eyed. “But… but…”

“God woman,” Lovett says, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. Her eyes go even wider. “One, you’re a fucking moron. Two, you’re so lucky they brought you to me. Three, stop fucking moving, you got shot!”

This finally seems to relax her a little and she tentatively moves back against the pillows that Lovett helpfully slides behind her. “You’re not going to...”

Lovett rolls her eyes. “No I’m not going to. What’s your name?”

“Tommy.”

Lovett raises an eyebrow, “what’s your _real_ name?”

“Tommy,” the girl repeats. “It’s short for Thomasina but don’t you dare call me that.”

“Oh I like you,” Lovett declares. “I’m Lovett. Joneva Lovett but, don’t use that either.” Tommy grins at her.

By the time they pack up the field hospital the next day, Lovett’s figured out a whole plan. “You’re crazy, you know that?” Tommy observes. “This is never going to work.”

“I liked you better unconscious.”

Honestly, she’s surprised when she pulls it off, but the hospital at Valley Forge must be really overstuffed. It’s definitely not protocol to take a wounded soldier home to your tiny little apartment to supervise his recovery but the doctor is apparently swayed by her confident declaration: “he was a hopeless case that I single-handedly nursed back from the brink of death!” Either she’s more convincing than she thought or he really doesn’t care that she’s the one who _told_ him Tommy was on the brink of death.

 

***

 

When Lovett brings Tommy home its an impulsive decision, brought on by her manic desire to help protect her secret. It only takes a week with her new roommate before she realizes she is well and truly fucked. 

She comes into the apartment to Tommy leaning out the opened window. “The hell are you doing? You’re meant to be in bed.”

“It’s so hot in here, why is it so hot in here. What witchcraft are you practicing to keep it so fucking hot in here?”

“It’s part of my flawless nursing. You’re supposed to be under the blankets not sticking your dumbass head out the window to catch cold,” Lovett gripes, crossing the room to throw an arm around the idiot and drag her back to bed. Tommy puts an obnoxious amount of weight on her, either more tired than she wants to admit or just being a dick and Lovett’s stomach flips as Tommy’s cheek lands on her hair.

“I didn’t know nursing included quite so many insults,” she says as Lovett drops her on the bed.

“Shut up.” Lovett sits next to her, grumbling good naturedly about the stupidity of the men in the hospital today until Tommy’s eyes drift shut. She’s going to regret this later, but she can’t stop herself from leaning in to brush Tommy’s forehead gently with her lips.

 

***

 

Eventually Lovett can’t come up with any more excuses to prolong Tommy’s convalescence; to keep her safe. “Don’t be an idiot okay? No one else is going to keep you from being court martialed if you end up in _their_ med tent,” she rants as Tommy is packing up her stuff.  

“Would anyone really notice if you didn’t go back? You could take off and have a nice life in the mountains with some chickens,” she mutters while they walk through the street. Tommy just laughs at her.

They get to the camp and Tommy’s standing there looking all tall and brave and ready to leave Lovett behind to go with her regiment while they move south. She waits patiently while Lovett gets in her last round of bitching.  “You don’t have to be a fucking hero just like, do your job without all the drama.” 

Out of completely fucking nowhere, Tommy grabs Lovett’s face and kisses her soundly. Lovett freezes where she stands, heart racing, mind completely blank. Tommy lets her go and says, “I’ll write you, okay?”

Then, cool as can be, Tommy turns and walks away. She’s almost out of sight when Lovett  manages to unlock her jaw. “Don’t fucking die!” she calls, her voice cracking humiliatingly. Tommy turns to throw her a salute over her shoulder and then she’s gone.

  


 

**Williamsburg, Virginia: October 22, 1777**

Favs is glaring at the trunks that are filled with her belongings in anticipation of the long journey across the sea when her mother calls her name from the hall. She takes the first set of stairs two at a time but slows when she comes into view of her mother’s disapproving stare.  “You’ve got a letter.” 

“From who?” she asks as she takes the offered envelope and pulls at the seal. 

“From whom,” her mother corrects. “I certainly don’t know, open it and find out.” 

The envelope is filthy, which explains the distaste with which her mother is regarding it. It stubbornly sticks closed until she gives up on delicacy and just rips at the top fold. There’s a single sheet of paper poking out and what seems like a whole novel’s worth of papers folded deeper in the envelope. Favs pulls out the top sheet and her heart stops. 

_Dear Miss Favreau,_

_I’m a soldier with Lieutenant Smith in Pennsylvania. Yesterday, we found this letter, addressed to you, in the pockets of a young man who got shot on the field. The nurse said he wasn’t like to make it, so we wanted to make sure this made its way to you. I’m sorry for your loss._

_Sincerely,_

_Willie Young._

“Jon.” Favs looks up to see her mother looking at her impatiently. “What is it?” 

“Uh, the cross stitch patterns Mary Robertson promised to send me last summer,” she lies, as smooth as she can.

“I swear nothing gets where it’s meant to with this absurd fighting going on.” Favs nods in agreement. “Well, lucky it got here. Go finish packing please. The carriage will be here soon.”

Favs walks upstairs in a haze; she nods meekly at the steward when he offers to carry her trunks downstairs and sends her maid out of the room before closing the door and collapsing on the bed with the letter clutched tight between her fingers.

The sheaf of papers in the envelope is folded tightly, the creases worn like they’ve been folded and unfolded many times. Later she’ll realize that a part of her already knew. No matter how much she's been denying it, there’s a part of her that isn’t shocked when she finally opens the letter to reveal familiar round neat handwriting. 

 _Dearest Favs,_ it starts and she chokes on air. _I’ve started this letter at least twenty times, until Ben (one of my tent-mates) told me to stop fucking wasting paper already and just add to the end. So that’s what I’m going to do I guess, sorry if it makes no sense._ Favs’ eyes flick up to the top of the page. It’s dated in April. Tommy carried this fucking letter around for six months, how dare she. Missing for seven months without a goddamn word and now this whole book of cramped writing, pages folded and creased beyond recognition, all crossed out and... 

 _I don’t even know where to start. First of all, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’m not sorry I left. I know you don’t understand, but I believe in this cause Jon, I have to fight for it. But I’m sorry I left you without saying goodbye. I knew you’d try to stop me. I didn’t know if I could walk away if you did._  

“Of course I would have tried to stop you, you absolute idiot,” Favs says indignantly, like the letter can somehow hear her. Leave it to Tommy to make it seem like trying to prevent your best friend from throwing her life away by committing treason and also probably fraud in the process is the unreasonable part of this equation. She can see Tommy doing it too. Probably cutting off her hair for the drama of it all, feeling like she was claiming some victory over Favs as she fucking enlisted. “You still should have said goodbye.” 

_There are so many things I should have told you. I’m going to try to write some of them I guess. Things I want to say to you about the cause of freedom. My last case for you to make something more of your life than your mother’s ideas of being a lady. The absurdity of this place, these people. Yesterday a cow walked through the middle of the camp and you’d have thought these men, most of whom are farmers, mind you, had never seen a large animal before, from the way they all jumped._

_Most of all Jon, I want you to know how important you are to me. How much better my life has been with you in it, even though I maybe haven’t always shown it. I want better for you because I’ve always thought you deserved the sun and the moon. If you only know one thing about me, please know, please remember, that I love you._

“Jon it’s time to go!” her brother yells, shoving her door open. “Mother’s freaking out that we’re going to miss the ship, even though they will definitely hold for us. Come on!”

“Right, yes, I’m coming,” Favs says, furiously wiping at her eyes. She folds the letter carefully and sticks it in the pocket tied around her waist. _Yours always, Tommy._

 

 

**Somewhere in Virginia: January 1778**

A small knot of continental soldiers is gathered around a fire at the temporary camp they’ve set up as a checkpoint. “Anything interesting in that mailbag?” one asks, nodding at the pile of letters they’d confiscated earlier in the day. 

“Mostly nothing. There’s this letter addressed to the Governor’s Palace though,” his friend says. “Not that anyone would be there to get it, even if we let it through.”

“Sorry dear loyalist.” They chuckle as the letter drops onto the fire. “Guess your love letter to our former toothless overlord got lost on the way.” 

 _Philadelphia, Pennsylvania  
__December 2, 1777_  

 _Dear Favs,_  

 _This is becoming ridiculous so I’m just going to…  I left to join the Continental Army. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I got shot in a battle about two months ago. I’m okay I promise. Please don’t be worried._  

_I wrote you a letter. A longer one than this. It was in my pocket when I got injured and it was gone when I woke up in the hospital. I don’t know if someone found it and sent it or if it’s lost in the mud somewhere. Just in case, I wanted to tell you. There are so many things I wanted to tell you. If the letter found its way to you somehow, you’ll know a lot of them._

_I hope you can forgive me someday. I hope I’ll see you again. I hope you’re well._

_Yours,_

_Tommy_

 

***

 

_Baltimore, Maryland  
_ _March 16th, 1778_

  _Dear Lovett,_  

 _We’re all set up in camp here in Maryland. It’s well ordered enough, though it’s obviously much colder and less comfortable than your apartment. I miss you. It’s very quiet without your laugh._  

 _Yesterday, there was quite a fracas. They’ve blended a couple units from different places together and the men don’t always get along. It started as just a fist fight between a couple men. When a few more got involved, they ended up knocking around until three tents collapsed. One of them had a sleeping officer inside. So, the men involved will be on ditch duty for a while._  

 _We’ve been doing lots of exercises, trying to get everyone ready. There are a lot of new recruits who’ve never seen fire. It’s getting warmer now. There will likely be action again soon. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be careful._  

 _I hope you’re well. I hope you’ll write me, if you want to, if you have time._  

 _Yours,_  

_Tommy_

 

***

 

 _Philadelphia, Pennsylvania  
__April 2, 1778_  

_Dear Tommy,_

~~_I miss you so much. I don’t know what to_~~ _It’s been raining for five days straight. I don’t know if the weather is the same where you are but if it is I bet it’s even worse. Mud all over? Making all those soldiers even dirtier? How do you manage._  

_Yesterday I watched an idiot soldier boy try to eat an apple with a broken nose and jaw. I know you’ll say I should have tried to stop him because it’s not funny to laugh at his pain, but what would possess you to try to bite into an apple when you can't speak without wincing? And he wouldn’t have listened to me anyway. Nevertheless, he neither choked nor broke a tooth, just squealed like a baby until I found some ice for his face._

_I think stupidity will kill more of these men than bullets. I’m glad you’re not quite that stupid. Please be smarter. And watch out for that other thing._ ~~_Write to me soon. I worry about you_~~ _Stay well and write when you can._  

_Lovett_

  


 

**London, England: 1779**

Favs is staring at the newspaper in her hands in a trance when she hears her name called from the hallway. She barely has time to slide it under her pillow and twist to face the mirror where she’s supposed to be doing her hair for the party tonight before her mother is bustling into the room.

“Jon, you remember Lord Harrington?” she says, crossing the room to inspect the dress laid out on the bed. “Not this dress, the peach one tonight.”

“That fancy? I thought it was just dinner at the Phillips?” Favs asks, as she goes to her wardrobe for the dress in question. “And yes I remember him. I’ve danced with him at least four times in the past month.” He’s one of the most dreadfully boring people she’s ever met but he's well titled which is all that matters to her parents. 

“Yes that one, it makes your skin glow. He spoke to your father this afternoon.” Her mother has a funny expression on her face that Favs can’t parse out. 

“Lord Harrington did? Whatever for?” 

“Jon,” her mother says patiently, like it’s obvious. “He spoke to your father to ask for your hand.” Giddy. Her mother is giddy. And of course she is, this has been her goal since they left the embattled colonies to return to England. 

“Oh.” There’s probably another reaction she should have to this news, right? She’s supposed to feel excitement and not just numb acceptance. 

“A summer wedding I think…” Maybe it doesn’t matter, her mother is more than excited enough for both of them. She keeps talking but Favs barely hears her, thoughts returning to the paper tucked under her pillow.

After the torturously long transatlantic voyage, Favs had carefully chosen her co-conspirator in the housekeeper who’d been with the family for as long as she can remember. Sarah had, through means unknown to Favs, found her a copy of almost every single book and essay on the careful list included in the letter she’d spent hours poring over during the crossing.

It might have been the first time Favs actually listened to what Tommy was trying to tell her. The careful argument, laid out in Tommy’s neat handwriting, interrupted at random points by mud splatters or lost trains of thought as she picked back up on a different day, pulls at Favs, lodges somewhere inside her and won’t let her be. 

_So in the most natural state, people have control over their own lives. The way philosophers talk about the “state of nature” is that each person has his or her own life, liberty, and property. And they are left to defend it themselves which is inefficient and ineffective. That’s where society and government comes in. A group of people comes together to share in the protection of those natural rights. And they set up… people create governments that provide collective security of those rights, the original government is to police the infringement._

_For example, when someone steals from his neighbor, rather than his neighbor having to enforce his own rights which leads to revenge and retribution or maybe the victim can’t resolve the issue. With a government, there can be someone in charge of making sure that everybody’s property is protected. And since government is formed by the people in a society to protect the rights of the people in society, it’s a kind of an agreement by the people to give the government the power it has. Because the victim of a theft is giving up his ability to go and shoot the thief in order to have the government protect him and enforce his rights._  

Favs knows now that Tommy was mostly paraphrasing John Locke, among others, but at the time, reading the letter had been a revelation. She only wishes the revelation had come when she could have talked to Tommy about it. So that she could ask her how everyone can consent to a government formed long before they were born; so that she could argue with her about the extent to which government should intervene in private disputes. Instead, Favs goes searching for the answers in the books Tommy left her. 

The books don’t fill the gaping hole left behind by her best friend, by the person who understood her the best and loved her the most even when she didn’t deserve it. But the ideals take up their own space, nudging the ache aside to replace it with a hunger and need. A need to learn more, to read more, to explore more. Ultimately, a need to _do_ more.  

“Don’t you think that would be lovely?” her mother asks, interrupting her mental detour 

“Yes of course,” Favs agrees mindlessly.

“Good. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes, please be ready.”

Favs watches carefully until the door clicks shut behind her then turns back towards her bed, shoving aside the pillows. There it is, in black and white on the fourth page of the paper. _Self-Governance: An Imperative? by Libero._

It had taken her a long time to settle on what to do with this new passion lighting her up, her new convictions. Then, she’d been searching for a half remembered book in a box of her brother’s things when she came across a well worn Latin textbook, marked up in Professor Vietor’s narrow hand.

The book took her right back to an afternoon in the gardens in WIlliamsburg, Tommy making Favs drill her on Latin conjugations so that Tommy could win her bet with Andy about which of them could learn more. Favs had been annoyed, wanted to work on her sampler, wanted Tommy to talk to her and not keep mumbling words of a dead language. 

Favs is still thinking about how much she would give to go back to that garden swing, the Latin book tucked carefully into her dresser, when she flips through a stack of newspapers that Sarah left for her and sees a blazing editorial written under the pseudonym _Massachusettensis_.

She can’t- she’s a nobleman’s daughter who’s now about to enter a society marriage. There aren’t a lot of ways she can put her ideals to use without uprooting herself in some unimaginable way. But writing... Newspapers will publish under a penname, no one needs to know whose daughter or wife she is, no one needs to know she’s a woman at all.

It took her a month to write this short letter. But now it’s here, in print, in her hands, signed with the name she chose from the textbook and the echo of Tommy’s singsong mnemonic rhyming. If she can do nothing else, Favs can do this for Tommy’s memory. Fulfill, in some way, one of Tommy’s dreams; prove, somehow, that she, at long last, is worth at least a little bit of the trust Tommy had in her.

 

 

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: May, 1783**

Lovett's not pathetic. She's not. She's not going to live alone and bored in her teeny, tiny little apartment until the end of time. 

She's not sure when she became this person who's just always anxiously waiting for a letter. Who has a stored up box of letters that she rereads daily until the pages wear out. 

The war has dragged on forever and ever but there finally started to be rumors of a peace treaty in March. A victory. Tommy's last letter, dated February 17th, shows up on March 28th. State run militias start to disband, the field hospitals start to clear, the city starts to rebuild from occupation. The treaty is signed in April and news filters down from New York and it's happening it really is and Lovett still hasn't heard from Tommy.

They've been writing regularly for five years now. Tommy writes long letters that span days, adding to them every night. She's got such a clear easy storytelling style, reading her stories about both the good and bad things happening in camp feels like being there. 

Lovett's letters tend to be shorter, peppered with too many jokes. She's always worried about the time that it's not enough, that the jokes land flat, that Tommy gets tired of her. That Tommy stops signing her letters with _yours_. That Tommy stops writing. 

Lovett is making dinner and contemplating how many days in a row she can reread a letter before it's truly pathetic when there's a knock on her door. No one ever knocks on her door and interrupts her spinster boredom. “It's open,” she calls, because she hasn't burned this stew yet and there must be _something_ she's capable of cooking. 

“That's dangerous, anyone could just walk in,” Tommy says as she pushes the door open. She's grinning like the cat that caught the canary, breathing heavy like she's been running. Lovett can't look at her, she can't- 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lovett shrieks, feeling herself spiraling out of control. Tommy looks, surprised? Scared?

“I thought...” Tommy ventures timidly and Lovett cuts her off. 

“You can't just show up at someone's house Tommy! You can't just appear in the doorway all flushed and gorgeous after four months of no word! You can't be here and tease me like it's nothing after five years of fucking-” her voice cracks humiliatingly. Tommy is staring at her blankly. “worrying you were going to die or that you didn't-”

A detached part of Lovett's brain wonders if it would be more embarrassing to finish that sentence: _or that you didn't actually want me,_ than it is to break down into horrible sobs.

Tommy is _here_. Tommy's alive and she's here and she came to Lovett. And here Lovett goes screaming at her to drive her right back away, desperate for her and not able to handle it when she's got her _right here_. She’s here and all Lovett is doing is sobbing uselessly.

Lovett's head is in her hands so she hears but doesn't see Tommy move. There's the sound of a couple steps and then, confusingly, there are strong arms around her. Tommy pulls her close and tight into a hug. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry it took so long,” she says into Lovett's hair. Lovett reaches her arms around Tommy's back and sobs into her chest. 

She's here. _She's here, stop crying_ , Lovett wills her brain. _This is happy not sad._ She manages to draw a few gasping breaths and slowly gets under control. When she's confident she can at least kind of speak, she pulls back to look at Tommy. “You’re okay? You’re not hiding injuries?”

Tommy shakes her head and Lovett can't wait anymore. She fucking dives at Tommy to kiss her. Tommy flings out an arm to slow them as they crumple to the ground. 

They kiss on the floor for a while before Tommy says, "not that this isn't great but as I remember you have a pretty nice bed." 

Lovett feels heat rush through her as she climbs to her feet. She'd given Tommy her bed while Tommy stayed here recovering. There'd been a few nights when they couldn't get the heat up enough, when Tommy was tired and cuddly, that she'd been pulled down while Tommy held onto her like a child's doll. At the time, Lovett was sure she was making a mistake as she stayed. Now, she wishes she'd done this so much sooner. 

"Have you done this before?" Lovett asks as Tommy half pushes, half carries her to her bed. 

Tommy says breathlessly, "no...have you?" 

When Lovett nods, Tommy lets out a small noise and pushes her down on the bed. She drops on top of her, kissing her and then working her way down her neck. Not to be deterred from what was actually a legitimate complaint, Lovett says grumpily, “honestly would it have killed you to send a letter telling me you weren't discharged yet?"

"I did,” Tommy says, nipping lightly at her ear. “Mail is shit from the front.” She moves to suck on her collarbone. “you know that. I wrote a letter when I was discharged too, I think I just beat it here.” 

Fuck. Lovett arches up under her, hands moving up Tommy's sides. “Take your fucking shirt off,” she says insistently. It takes her a minute to push Tommy off far enough to pull her shirt off and get her hands on the cloth hiding her breasts. “There you are,” she murmurs before lifting her hips to flip them over. Tommy yelps in surprise and again in delight when Lovett gets her mouth on a nipple. 

It’s not like Lovett’s been dreaming about Tommy’s chest. It’s _not_. It’s just that, she’s never quite managed to shake the shock of that first moment when she cut Tommy’s shirt off. She’s never been able to shake the _awe_ at Tommy, that she believes so fiercely in independence that she was willing to hide herself. That she was willing to participate in what must have been, at times a painful deception.

And, Tommy’s breasts are lovely. Lovett supposes that when she’s actively in bed with Tommy, she’s allowed to think that. Tommy doesn’t seem to mind, she's arching up into Lovett’s mouth and hands, making these beautiful little breathy noises. Lovett can’t believe she’s never-

When Lovett gets her fill, for now, of playing with Tommy’s breasts; when she can’t wait anymore to get her mouth on other parts of Tommy, she slides down between Tommy’s legs. 

Tommy makes an ungodly sound that makes Lovett wonder again. “But have you with a man?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Tommy gasps as Lovett pulls her thighs wider. “In the army camp where I was concealing my identity,” as Lovett’s hand dips down, “the- the- the fuck do you think Lovett?” as she slips a finger in, “no- I haven’t- ah!” 

Lovett grins and lowers her face to eat Tommy out until she’s screaming.

  


 

**Richmond, Virginia: March, 1784**

“Hey,” Lovett says, looking up from the mail she’s sorting in the newspaper office.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks distractedly. She’s typesetting tomorrow’s paper. The fiftieth paper that they’re going to publish. It’s unbelievable still.

After the war ended, Tommy had asked Lovett to return to Virginia with her. It’s not that she couldn’t have stayed in Pennsylvania, but even in the capitol, a day’s ride from home, she feels closer to her parents, to home, to the girl she was, to the girl she lost.

Lovett had been more than willing to start fresh, away from her father’s watchful eye. And Tommy had the connections to start, even if she had to keep up the pretense longer than she intended. Colonel Williams, who she’d become close with in the last years of the war, gave Tommy, or her male alter-ego, some work for him as he took a position in the House of Delegates. 

That made them some money and let her meet the right people, until they could buy the supplies, buy the office, start publishing. _The Crooked Gazette_ run by editors in chief _Scientia_ and _Fidelis_ took off like wildfire, and suddenly, all Tommy’s dreams seem to have come true.

“Tommy, earth to Tommy,” Lovett calls.

“What dear?” Tommy looks up from the type. 

“I know we’re not really taking submissions,” Lovett continues. “But there’s something really interesting to this one.” Her voice is excited, enthusiastic, insistent, in the way that means she’s not going to rest until Tommy indulges her. 

Tommy walks across the office to hook her chin over Lovett’s shoulder. Lovett is holding a slightly wrinkled piece of paper, which she holds up so Tommy can read.

 _A nation, founded on ideals of equality and liberty such as America has been, must guard zealously against the denigration of these ideals and the rights that they afford. An egalitarian ambition at the center of a democratic endeavor will foster an independence of opinion, that ought to lead to respect for oneself and other citizens of the republic._  

 _If each citizen understands the liberty to which they are entitled, the liberty which patriots laid down their lives for on the battlefields of revolution, they are better able to guard the rights thus attained. Liberty is not contained to a point in time, it is not static, it is a set of ideals to be protected by the people and the people have a right, an obligation, to fight until these ideals are carried out. With that common understanding, a noble and virtuous democracy of freedom and equality can flourish._  

Tommy finishes the page and finds herself reading it again, unable to tear her eyes away. “This is- I-” she breathes. “Where did it come from?”

“It’s not signed and there’s no address,” Lovett says, annoyed. There’s nothing Lovett hates more than incomplete information. “It shipped from England though? It came off a ship?” 

“Strange,” Tommy says. “How did anyone in England know about our little paper?” 

“I keep telling you Tommy,” Lovett laughs. “We’ve got a juggernaut on our hands.” 

“Whatever you say,” Tommy murmurs indulgently. She looks back at the paper in Lovett’s hands. _The people have a right, an obligation, to fight until these ideals are carried out_. She feels strangely _seen_ by this letter. “It’s very good,” she tells Lovett slowly. “Should we-” 

“I say we publish it,” Lovett spins to look at her, challenge in her eyes. 

“I have no objection,” Tommy says mildly. She reaches out to pull the letter from Lovett’s hand. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Lovett agrees happily. “Maybe we’ll get more people to send us things. Or this _Libero_ will send us more!”

“Maybe, maybe,” Tommy laughs. “Let people beside the two of us get a word in anyway.” 

“The first bit of this paper written by a man,” Lovett says solemnly. “I take it back. We can’t possibly publish this.” 

“Shush.”

  


 

 **Richmond, Virginia:** **August 18, 1785**  

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, let’s go!” Lovett calls as she flies down the steps into the print shop, hands fussing at her hair, for once secured under a cap. 

“I,” Tommy says mildly, “have been ready for thirty minutes now, and have finished reading this new essay that you told me I wouldn’t have time for this morning.” She waves the wrinkled pages towards Lovett in demonstration. 

“Cheat!” Lovett snaps immediately, smacking Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy smirks at her, reaching for the hat on the desk and pushing Lovett towards the door with a hand on her elbow. It was a dick move to read the essay without her, they usually read the monthly letters from their mysterious columnist together, but Lovett made a production out of hiding it this morning so that Tommy wouldn’t get distracted, her subterfuge was justified.

“I’ll pretend not to know what’s coming when you read it later,” Tommy promises and Lovett scoffs as she steps onto the street. Her face lights up as they get swept into the rush of people, grievance forgotten. 

“Tommy let’s _go!"_  Lovett says again, pulling Tommy forward. “We’re not gonna get a good spot!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tommy laughs, “he has a really loud voice, you’ll hear it no matter what.” And, she has tickets in her pocket, courtesy of the Colonel, to get into the box next to the stage.

Lovett turns and _glowers_ , walking backwards through the crowd while she rants. “Okay, sorry that not all of us are important enough to have met Governor Henry,” she says. Tommy grabs her shoulders to steer her as she nearly walks into a horse tied on the edge of the street. “Some of us are of the people, not of the military and governmental elite, just lowly printers and nurses, everyday workers who _built_ this country.”

“Okay, okay,” Tommy laughs, steadying Lovett as she trips over an uneven brick. Lovett’s cheeks are flushed with excitement and exertion and she’s already dripping in the humidity. “What do you think the speech will be like?” she asks to change the conversation.  

Lovett, predictably, lights up. “I don’t _know_! Some of his prepared remarks lately have fallen a little flat but _god_ ,” Tommy turns her back around and pulls her close, even though it’s really too hot to walk cuddled together. “What if-” Lovett bounces on her heels.

“Go ahead,” Tommy tells her indulgently. If she didn’t already have these lines memorized, Lovett’s increasingly dramatic recitations over the last week and a half ahead of the new state capitol building’s cornerstone ceremony would have seared it into her brain, but-

Lovett _glows_ , “The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!” she intones. Several people ahead of them turn to stare with interest.  “Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”  

Lovett swoons dramatically into Tommy as she finishes. There’s a tiny smattering of applause and Tommy rolls her eyes. “So death then?” she asks. 

“Nah,” Lovett says sweetly, standing upright again and tugging on Tommy’s hand. “Some handsome soldier of mine fought for the liberty piece. And now we’re _going_ to see the new home of our free government be created.” 

Tommy laughs and follows her onwards.

 

 

 **Virginia: April 1787**

“All ashore who’s going ashore!” the first mate calls as Favs’ feet hit the dock. She instantly wants to turn around, to get back on. There’s probably another boat returning to England today. She could go back. Her mother would call her a fool and bring her home to her father’s house prove it. 

“What am I _doing_ ?” she whispers. _A grief decision_ , her mother said. _One you’ll regret immediately, a waste_. Maybe she was right. When George had died, and she’d tasted freedom for the first time in years, she’d bought the tickets impulsively, because she _could_ . She doesn’t even _know_ anyone in America.

The entire crossing, she’s been freaking out, second guessing. There’s nothing else to be done. She has to go back. She’s going to go back.

Then there’s a tug on her hand. “Mum.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” she says, looking down at her son’s small hopeful face. “We’re going.”

He deserves this. He deserves this country with its ideals and its hope and its promise. He deserves to be free of the _expectations_ that have defined her for so long. They’re going to stay.

The stagecoach ride only brings her doubts back. Her plan is so stupid. Walk into this newspaper office and announce that they’ve been publishing letters written by an English gentlewoman. They’re going to laugh her out the door. And if they believe her, they’ll be so angry at her deception.

It’s all she’s got though. When they finally get to Richmond after a terrible bumpy ride, she nervously makes her way through the streets until she’s in front of the window reading _The_ _Crooked Gazette_. 

“Okay,” Favs says softly. “Okay.” She bites her lip really hard and forces her free hand to lift from her side. The door is cold under her fingers. _Push_. She shoves it open, a bell jangling loudly as she steps inside the office.  

There’s only one person inside. All Favs can see is a dark curly head bent over the printing press. She realizes it’s a woman when she speaks, a hand held up warningly, “I’ve got to finish setting this row, wait a minute.” 

Favs shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. _This was a terrible idea_.

After what feels like an eternity, the woman looks up. Her face is flushed with exertion and smudged with ink. Her curls are askew, escaping from a knot that looks like it was never terribly neat to begin with. “Oh,” she says, surprised. “You’re not the delivery boy.”

“No…” Favs says automatically. She can’t find the next words. “I'm... I'm... I wrote the..."

The woman is looking at her intently. Curiously. Favs changes tactics, this employee or wife of the editors doesn’t need her whole story. “I'm looking for Fidelis and Scientia."

Now the stare is challenging. The woman’s eyes go flat and wary as she steps around the press. She’s- she’s wearing _breeches_. "Why?" 

"I need to talk to them." Even as nervous as she is, the challenge in this stranger’s eyes still lights Favs up. It’s none of her fucking business.

“So you said. Tell me why.” 

“It’s not- I just have to,” Favs repeats. The spark in this strange woman’s eyes gets more intense as she leans into Favs’ space and Favs feels herself losing. _Just say it_.  "Cause I write... I'm Libero!" 

“No shit,” she says, taking a step back. 

"Yes 'shit', why would I make that up?” Favs snaps. 

“I don’t know, people do weird things!” She’s still staring, still looking unfriendly. Favs cowers under her hard stare, not sure how to justify herself further. 

Suddenly the woman drops to her knees, looking to Favs’ side like she’s just noticed the child hiding in her skirts. “Hey,” she says in a totally different tone. “And who are you?” 

Favs looks down to watch as he peeks out at her nervously. “It’s okay,” Favs says softly, her hand on his head. 

“I’m Thomas,” he offers shyly. The woman’s face does something a little funny, before she grins wide and friendly. 

“That’s a great name,” she says easily. “I’m Lovett.” She- Lovett, stands up and looks at Favs consideringly. She pauses before saying carefully. “I’m also Scientia” 

Favs’ jaw drops and she exhales hard. “Oh. _Oh_.” How did she never think- She’d never considered that other women could have had the same idea she did, but of course. After a moment, she pulls herself together and reaches into one of the bags she's clutching. “Here.”  

She pulls out a stack of paper. Copies of things the newspaper has already printed, other things she’s written, a few of the newspapers she’d acquired with great difficulty. With shaking hands, she passes Lovett the whole mess, wrinkled by travel. Lovett flips through them carefully before looking up at Favs.   

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” This time her grin is directed at Favs. It makes her a little weak in the knees, which is probably just the travel exhaustion. “So, what brings you here in person?”

Favs is opening her mouth to respond when the door swings open behind her. “Hey babe, did you know that there’s a new bookstore opening on 5th street?” 

“No I did not!” Lovett is saying but she sounds very far away as Favs doesn’t hear her as she spins around, all the blood draining from her face. She knows that voice. 

Tommy, _Tommy_ , is standing in the door looking at her curiously. _Tommy_. _She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s... in the doorway of this print shop_. After a moment, Tommy does a pronounced double take. “J- Jon?”  

The world is spinning. “Tommy!” Favs gasps, and then the world goes black as she faints dead away.

 

***

 

Tommy moves faster than she’s moved in a long time and still just barely manages to get her arms around Favs before she hits the ground. She goes to her knees, cradling her dead weight. Lovett crosses the floor quickly, reaching out as she drops next to them.

Tommy doesn’t immediately move to let her in so Lovett says sharply, “Nurse, remember?” Tommy shakes her head to clear it and gently sets Favs on the ground so Lovett can reach for her throat, feeling for her heartbeat. “Comfort the scared child,” she orders.

Truth be told, Tommy hadn’t noticed there was a child in the room until this moment. She turns and meets tearful little eyes. “Hey, hey. She’s okay, it’s okay,” she says softly. “Hi I’m Tommy.”

“That’s… that’s like my name,” he says, voice soft and trembly. Tommy takes a sharp breath.

"Yes.” Lovett doesn’t even look up. Tommy can’t breathe but he’s still staring at her, terrified.

“How, how old are you?” Tommy asks, as level as she can.

“Four. Is my mum okay?”

“I think so,” Tommy says. “Lovett’s the best nurse in the world, she’s taking good care of her.”

“She’s all right,” Lovett chimes in sitting back on her heels. “I bet she’ll wake up any second now. When’s the last time you had something to eat Thomas?” 

 _Jon, what the fuck?_ Tommy’s heart is racing out of control. Favs was gone, she’d forgotten- Tommy had gone home, once, after the war ended, and found out that the Favreaus had gone back to England, of course. She’d looked, a bit, sent a few discreet inquiries. Favs got married to some nobleman just like she’d always planned. What the hell is she doing in Virginia, on the floor of their newspaper office, with a four-year-old child named-

The boy’s face screws up in concentration. “Breakfast on the boat?”

“Okay, it’s like five o’clock, let’s get you a snack, hmm?” Lovett says smoothly. Thomas shakes his head, eyes on Favs. “I have apples right over here in my desk, we don’t even have to leave the room.” Lovett reaches out her hand and the little boy takes it nervously and follows her across the room.

Tommy’s frozen on the floor, staring at Favs in front of her. Her eyes keep tracing all the new lines in Favs’ face. Her skin’s as perfect as ever, if a little pale right now; her hair starting to streak with grey. She’s beautiful and real and _here_. Tommy tentatively grasps her hand. “What even are you?” she says wonderingly.

As if prompted by Tommy's voice, Favs' eyelashes start to flutter. Tommy leans over as she blinks back into consciousness. 

"You got shot," Favs murmurs accusingly. "You're dead."

“I did get shot,” Tommy agrees. “But I’m very much alive.”

Favs struggles to sit up and Tommy reaches a hand around her shoulders to steady her. “How?” 

“I had a good nurse.” Tommy looks over at Lovett with a soft smile. Lovett doesn’t look up from the knife in her hands. If Favs thought she was dead...  “You got the letter then.” 

Whatever Favs is going to say in response is cut off by forty pounds of toddler flinging himself into her lap. “Hey sweetie I’m okay,” she murmurs, stroking his head. Tommy can’t tear her eyes off of her.

“You’re… here,” Tommy says, still reeling. “In Richmond. In our newspaper office.” 

“She’s Libero,” Lovett says from the desk. They both turn to look at her. “And I’ve yet to hear your actual name, though Tommy obviously knows it,” she continues, sharp. 

“Right, sorry! I’m Jon Favreau,” Favs says, well-trained manners clicking in. “Tommy and I were… childhood friends.” The way she says that makes Tommy’s stomach drop. The look on Lovett’s face sinks it further.

Then Tommy processes what Lovett said. “Wait you’re Libero?” 

The fucking, the fucking essays that had made her feel like she was on fire reading them. The incisive, articulate, flawless writing defending democracy and liberty and popular sovereignty. Favs wrote them. Favs, who couldn’t believe the things teenage Tommy dared to say about the king and the government. Favs, who knew how to dance and how to needlepoint and barely knew how to read. 

“I-” Favs looks down at her lap. “Yes. I am.” 

“How-” Tommy whispers. She’s not sure what the end of that question is. _How are you like this? How did you learn all that? How do you write like this? How are you here? How did I not know? How did I not see? How has it been ten years? Do you know how much I lo-_  

“Someone kept telling me about the rights of the people,” Favs offers shyly. She looks up into Tommy’s face with a small smile. Tommy can’t help but smile back.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Favs confirms, smiling wider. “I, started reading- and- it turns out I had thoughts.”

“Good thoughts,” Tommy tells her. Favs has always sought praise like a moth seeks the light, and that doesn’t seem to have changed. She lights up at Tommy’s words, so Tommy keeps going. “Really, Favs, the letters. They’re- so good. You write, the way you write, it’s incredible.”

“I- Thank you,” Favs says, glowing. Tommy is pretty sure she could look at that smile for days. The moment is broken when Favs’ stomach growls. 

“Right!” Lovett says, too loud, walking across the room to put her hand possessively on Tommy’s shoulder. “It’s dinner time. Miss Favreau, you have plans?” 

“Favs, really,” Favs tells her. She flushes. “And no- I hadn’t really thought past this. Here.” 

Lovett hums consideringly. “And you got off a ship this morning?” Favs ducks her head in confirmation and embarrassment. Lovett laughs at her, not unkindly, and turns to give Tommy a questioning look. Tommy nods. “We have a guest room. And food for dinner.” 

“You- you do?” Favs asks, voice trembling. 

She really didn’t have a plan, Tommy realizes. She was just- _Who even are you Jon Favreau?_ “We do. And you should stay.”  

Favs beams. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience…” 

“Shush,” Lovett tuts. “None of that here, put your fancy manners away. Now come on, upstairs.”

 

***

 

Lovett holds out for a week before she brings it up. Tommy’s not sure whether she’s holding her tongue for the purpose of torturing Tommy with the uncertainty but it certainly feels like it. While Lovett says nothing, Favs and Thomas settle into the guestroom so seamlessly that Tommy sometimes forgets they haven’t always been there. 

It’s nice, to be able to walk into the kitchen in the morning and find Favs there, reading one of the books she’s been borrowing from Tommy’s shelf. It’s good, to hold a small hand when walking to the market to buy food to make dinner because Thomas begged to go with her and Favs just dimpled in response. It feels like something out of the wildest dreams Tommy had as a teenager, but it also feels natural, like everything has fallen into place.

But there’s a looming sense that the other shoe has yet to drop, that the dark looks on Lovett’s face when Tommy looks up from a conversation with Favs are a harbinger of something more serious. The problem is that Tommy doesn’t know whether its a reasonable objection to a woman Lovett doesn’t know staying in their house for an indeterminate period, concern about the must-be-obvious lingering feelings Tommy has for Favs, or something else entirely.

In the end, of course, Lovett doesn’t beat around the bush. 

“You love her,” Lovett says flatly, with no preamble, as Tommy is reading in bed. Tommy’s head whips towards her, heart pounding. “It’s okay. I get it," she adds. Lovett looks… resigned.

Tommy says, "I love _you_ ,” and means it. She loves Lovett so much it hurts, has tried to _marry_ Lovett a dozen times over with her fake name and the ability it gives her to own the print shop, the army pension, the ability it would give Lovett, if the worst happened. She’s tried to marry Lovett with the confidence Tommy feels that she’s never going to stop wanting her, tried to give Lovett her certainty with a ring.  

Lovett’s not wrong though. Tommy _does_ love Favs, _too_. She always has, missed her like a piece of herself for all these years. Loving Lovett slid that ache to the side as Lovett claimed her own piece, a piece of Tommy’s heart that’s entirely Lovett, resting next to the hole that belongs to Favs. She loves them both.

Tommy _doesn't_ say the words that have been weighing down her heart since Favs smiled at her from the floor in the shop. _She doesn’t want me. She's read my heart and soul poured out on paper and she doesn't want me._

She does say, "She's my best friend, she's my oldest friend. I missed her,” and it’s true. Favs is.

Lovett looks unimpressed. “Yeah but you _love_ her," she repeats.

“Sure,” Tommy admits, with a casualness she doesn’t feel, that she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel. Lovett nods, once, brisk. Tommy grabs her hands quickly and squeezes. “I always have and I probably always will love her,” she says slowly, words falling easier than she expects them to. “But, I love you, I’m _in love with you_ , I need you. Lovett, this is forever, okay?”

“Whatever,” Lovett scoffs, but the lines of her scowl relax and when Tommy kisses her fiercely, she doesn’t pull away.

  


 

 **Richmond, Virginia: Late May, 1787**  

It’s impossible to dislike Jon Favreau. Lovett would know. She tries very hard to dislike Favs immediately, and continues to try for the first week or so that Favs lives in their guest bedroom. 

It should be easy to hate her.

She moves with the artificial grace of someone who’s had fucking _etiquette_ lessons and when Lovett tries to tease her about how it looks like she’s walking with a book on her head, Favs just dimples and says “try me, I had to circle the whole palace with three stacked on each other,” while Tommy cracks up in delight and nostalgia.  

She’s an even worse cook than Lovett. Favs volunteers to help with dinner the second night and burns the rice and spills the sauce for the chicken. While Tommy smiles and pulls out a rag and bread and butter and Lovett glowers, Favs turns bright red and apologizes for like, twenty minutes, until Lovett feels like she has to take pity on her and hand her a fistful of forks. Lovett’s gruff “I don’t suppose you can ruin anything beyond repair while setting the table,” is met with a delighted giggle that’s, ridiculous, really, and an earnest smile.

“Maybe just… buy things to eat while I’m gone,” Tommy says, while she’s gathering her things to leave them, alone, for _months_ , and Lovett pouts insolently.

“I _can_ cook,” Lovett insists, so that she doesn’t plead _don’t go_. She’s the one who told Tommy to go after all. Playing scribe for Colonel Williams at the Constitutional Convention is a great opportunity to get content for the paper, and turning down the offer would have aroused suspicion and burned bridges they can't afford to lose.  

Tommy just grins at her, pulls her close for their third last kiss, and bends down to tell Thomas seriously, “Don’t let Lovett make you eat her cooking if it’s bad.” 

Lovett discovers that she can and will glare at a four year old when he giggles adoringly at Tommy and nods seriously. Favs, of course, says quickly, “Tommy! He’ll eat it and be happy about it, and besides, I’m sure Lovett will make very good meals.” 

Tommy gives Favs a quick hug that Lovett does _not_ glower at and steps back to Lovett as she says, “You have so much faith,” with a laugh. She kisses Lovett again, harder than before, and says, “I love you,” against her lips as she pulls slowly away.

“You _have_ to go,” Lovett says, pushing at Tommy’s shoulders.  

Tommy stops at the corner and turns back, tipping her hat theatrically. Lovett’s heart aches, looking at her, proud and tall, hair tucked up and chest bound, looking just like she did the first time she left Lovett with a kiss. 

“Tommy!” Lovett yells, before she’s consciously thought through it, half running down the cobblestones. Tommy takes three quick steps back before she’s catching Lovett in her arms and kissing her again. Lovett breathes hard as Tommy lets her go. “I love you too.” 

Once Tommy leaves, Favs’ earnestness should be even more annoying, despite the promise Lovett had made _Fine, I’ll give her a real chance, god_ , to Tommy when she talked her into leaving them alone.

Favs is omnipresent, hovering in the print shop, trying to offer help. After a week, as the sun climbs, Lovett looks at her full skirts and long sleeves and sighs longsufferingly. “If you’re going to be in here - you can sit over there and write if you want, I guess - but it’s hot as shit, it’s summer, you’re going to pass out on my floor again, you have to change.” 

She comes back twenty minutes later in… slightly less clothing. Lovett rolls her eyes performatively as Favs shuffles her skirts around her and sits down at the desk. “This is a summer dress,” Favs insists, in response to Lovett’s scoff. 

“In fucking London maybe,” Lovett says. “Not in Virginia.” 

“Do you need help with that?” Favs asks blithely, for the twentieth time this morning. 

“No,” Lovett says curtly, turning back to her typesetting. Favs sighs a little and picks up a pen. The only sound for what must be hours is the clacking of the type and the scratch of Favs’ pen, punctuated by an occasional soft question from Thomas, who really is the most docile child Lovett’s ever seen.

He’s napping at Favs’ feet when Lovett gets tired of the silence. She’s been meaning to say this, to put it out there; or maybe it’s her masochistic desire to see if she can shake Favs out of the trance she seems to go in when she’s writing that makes Lovett say it.

“I told Tommy she should… be with you, you know. And she said no,” Lovett says, without preamble. 

Favs jerks against the desk like Lovett has hit her, tipping over her ink. Well that answers that. 

It hurts more than Lovett expected to see Favs’ face go white and scared. To see her lose her cool and go speechless. She didn’t really intend to be _cruel_ , she just thought Favs deserved to know… Deserved to know what? she asks herself, looking at the tight grip Favs has on her pen, the way she hasn’t moved to clean up the ink.  

"She doesn't think you want her," Lovett adds as a peace offering when Favs doesn’t respond. 

“No,” Favs says finally, voice low and… sad?  "She loves you." She finally moves, shuffling her papers and shifting like she means to stand and leave. “Besides, I couldn’t- even if-” 

“You _could_ ,” Lovett says without thinking. She’s walking across the floor before she realizes she’s doing it, grabbing a spare pot of ink like a peace offering, bending to wipe at the spill with the rag in her hands. “If you wanted to.”

Favs sighs, but she takes the ink and doesn’t leave, balling up the ruined page and starting fresh. 

The problem with Favs, Lovett thinks, as she looks at the way her chest rises and falls, uneven like she’s fighting tears even as her pen moves steadily across the page, is that it’s far far too easy to love her, skirts and manners and all.

  


 

 **Richmond, Virginia: August, 1787**  

During the hottest week of the summer, Thomas wakes up in the middle of the night coughing uncontrollably. He’s been off for a few days, rubbing at his eyes and ears while he sits at Favs’ feet while she writes or running the wooden car he brought home from a shopping trip with Lovett across the floor of the print shop, underfoot while Lovett continues her careful typesetting lessons. But the cough is sudden and terrifying and when Favs reaches over to touch his face he’s burning up with fever. 

“Hey, hey sweetie,” she says, trying to keep her voice level. He turns towards her touch with a pathetic whine, followed by more raspy hacking coughs. Favs pulls him into her arms and cradles him close. “It’s alright darling, you’re okay,” she whispers, hoping to soothe. 

“Mum,” he whines. He’s gasping a little, between coughs, tears flooding his eyes. 

“Mum’s here baby,” Favs murmurs, rocking him back and forth and humming a little, trying to hold back her own tears. It’s swampy and humid and disease travels fast here, she remembers the children in town, growing up, who went, fast, to summer sicknesses. He’s so small, he’s not strong enough, she can’t lose him. “I love you, I love you,” she hums absently, trying frantically to remember what to do now.

The door opens with a creak and Lovett pokes her head in, eyes wide in the light of the lamp in her hand. Her hair is more disheveled than normal, which Favs didn’t know was possible, and she’s barefoot in her short shift. She still looks- well, she looks like Lovett, cheeks rosy and round, curls beckoning to be smoothed, wrists arched at perfect angles. 

“Hey,” Lovett says softly, opening the door wider, “Can I come in?” 

“Um,” Favs stutters. “Yes? I’m uh, sorry if he woke you,” her voice shakes, despite her best efforts. 

Lovett shakes her head furiously and crosses the floor in two steps, reaching out- towards Thomas, Favs realizes belatedly. “I was a nurse during the war, remember? I haven’t forgotten it all.”

Favs does remember that. Lovett’s nursing skills saved Tommy’s life. She’d thought that might be hyperbole the first time Tommy said it, but first Tommy and then Lovett had slowly let loose with more details. Tommy had laid it out in simple, clear terms, the gunshot wound in battle, the terrifying awakening, the lengthy recovery in Lovett’s apartment, returning to the front like an _idiot_.  

Lovett, this summer, as they spent long days in the print shop ignoring each other, then tentatively talking about their writing, finally relaxing and talking about themselves as Favs finally convinced Lovett to teach her how the press works, had told the story in a fashion that was both more detailed and more disjointed.

 _Like, why would you not think about the possibility of being court martialed when you joined the fucking army?_ and _she’d just like- smile while she was flagrantly disobeying medical advice and making dinner_ and one day, absently _so she went back, like a moron, and kissed me right as she turned away, what the fuck do you do with that?_  

“I think it’s probably just the flu,” Lovett says abruptly. She’s laid Thomas out in Favs’ bed, her hands gently stroking his face. “I’m gonna go see what we have here, one of us might have to run out tomorrow and get-” she pauses in the doorway and turns back, reaching out to squeeze Favs’ hand quickly. “He’s going to be okay Favs,” she says softly, before disappearing.

Favs sits by Thomas’s head whispering a lullaby while she waits for Lovett to come back, distracted by the ghost of Lovett’s touch. It’s not- they brush against each other in the press all the time. But Lovett rarely offers physical contact with intent, not like Tommy, squeezing your shoulder as she passes by in the kitchen, or some of her friends in England who’d clasp your hands and kiss your cheek in greeting, hug you goodbye. Lovett’s only reached out for her once before. 

 _“So do you like, miss him?” Lovett asks suddenly. “No, you put too much ink there,” she corrects in the same breath._  

_“Him, who?” Favs asks, distracted by fixing her error._

_“Thomas’ father, your husband I presume, you don’t really seem like the type-” Lovett says bluntly._

_“Lovett!” Favs cuts her off before she can finish that thought. “His name was George, and…” she looks around carefully to make sure the baby is napping. “Not really, no.”_  

 _Lovett examines her carefully. “Did you love him?”_  

 _Favs giggles a little in surprise. “No? I mean, he was a fine man, he mostly let me alone and I had my books and my writing and- not that he knew about the writing of course.”_  

 _“But you married him,” Lovett presses. “You must have liked him a little?”_  

_“What fairytales are you reading?” Favs laughs. “He asked my father for my hand, I wasn’t quite consulted.”_

_Lovett bites her lip. “I turned down three marriage proposals before the war.”_  

 _Favs doesn’t think her jaw literally drops, but it’s a close thing. She can’t even imagine turning down one suitable man, let alone three. “How?” she asks._  

_“I just said no,” Lovett shrugs. “I mean I didn’t have fucking,” she gestures vaguely at Favs’ person, presumably meaning to encompass her family and title and upbringing, her opinion of which she has already made quite well known, “but no one was going to trap me in a marriage, I guess my father could have dragged me to a church but thankfully he didn’t go that far.”_

_Trap me, trap me, trap me, echoes in Favs head. That’s exactly how she’d felt, from the day her mother told her about George’s proposal. Trapped. Her life hadn’t been her own, not fully, not really even a little, beside the stolen time writing, hadn’t been her own, until now. And she still doesn’t know what to do with it._

_“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, don’t-” Lovett’s hands are suddenly on her shoulders, turning Favs to face her. “Don’t cry, okay? I was just being nosy.”_

_Favs hadn’t even realized she was tearing up. Lovett’s thumb, which is completely covered in ink, strokes up and down her wrist carefully._

_“Finally get you a little dirty,” Lovett mutters, following Favs’ eyes. Favs can’t hold in a slightly hysterical giggle. “I’ll teach you how to cook next,” Lovett adds gleefully, “tomato sauce!” Favs laughs helplessly._  

 _“Okay Lovett, whatever you want.”_  

Thomas’s fever doesn’t break for three horrifying days. On the third night he starts sweating profusely, soaking three sleep shirts and two sets of sheets before falling into a restless shaking sleep. 

Lovett pushes Favs down into a chair once he’s out. “You should go get some sleep,” Lovett says gently. “You can’t do anything more for him right now and it’s no good if you get sick.” 

“I can’t _leave him_!” Favs cries and suddenly the tears she’s been holding in are bursting loose, uncontrolled and harsh and gasping as she curls in on herself. “I can’t-” she sobs, “I lost Tommy and now I might lose him...”

Lovett kneels in front of her and grabs her shoulders, firm. “Not if I can help it. Hey, hey, Jon, hey,” Favs forces herself to look into Lovett’s concerned face. Her mouth is twisted with worry but her eyes are steely. “You didn’t lose Tommy. You didn't lose anyone and you’re not going to lose anyone,” Lovett promises fervently. 

Favs gasps for air as Lovett keeps stroking her arms. “Come here,” Lovett says, tugging, and Favs lets herself fall forward into Lovett’s chest. Lovett’s arms come up around her, a little stiff, but certain and firm. “Shh, it’s okay,” Lovett murmurs while Favs sobs. “It’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

It seems like it takes forever for her to get herself under control. Lovett is stroking her hair in a slow soothing pattern when Favs finally manages to stop crying. She tilts back a little to look at Lovett’s face which is- closer than she expects.

“Thomas,” Favs whispers, voice hoarse. “He’s- Is he really going to be okay.”

Lovett nods. “The fever’s breaking, he should be right as rain and underfoot in a few days.” Favs chokes on her relief. “He’s going to be okay,” Lovett repeats, slow and easy, one of her hands slipping around to cup Favs’ cheek. “And so are you,” she says, softer, gentler somehow, with a slow smile. 

Favs looks at her, looking at the laugh lines around Lovett’s eyes from this new angle. God, she’s- beautiful and strong. Favs reaches a tentative hand up towards Lovett’s face, pulled by some force she can’t explain, thumb reaching to trace the lines. She’s mildly surprised when Lovett leans into her hand, her face smooth and soft under Favs’ hands, not like the calluses on Lovett’s fingers. 

“Can I,” Favs breathes. Lovett’s head bobs, barely enough movement to be called a nod, but it’s enough for Favs to shift her hand for better leverage and tug Lovett’s face down until their lips meet.

 

***

 

The next morning, after Favs has reluctantly gotten a bit of sleep, she’s in the kitchen making coffee when Lovett suddenly pops up behind her. Favs flinches away without fully meaning too. 

“So, we need to talk,” Lovett says lightly. “He’s asleep,” when Favs’ eyes dart towards the bedroom. “Last night-” 

“We can just forget it,” Favs offers hurriedly. She doesn’t know what made her do it, what made her kiss Lovett, what made Lovett kiss her back. But Lovett is _Tommy’s_. And Favs is... an intruder, an outsider, an- “Or I can-” _leave_.

“Or we could do… not that,” Lovett says quickly, taking another step towards Favs, hands outstretched non-threateningly. “You know how we had that super awkward and terrible conversation about Tommy a few months ago? I think there's a way we all win." 

“What?” It’s not like Favs always knows what Lovett is talking about. She nods and giggles along more often than she would ever admit. But she’s rarely this lost. Her thoughts won’t coalesce into anything logical. _We all win_. Win what?

“You love Tommy,” Lovett says, matter of fact. Favs’ chest clenches. “And she loves you.”

“No-” Favs starts, automatic, but Lovett holds up a hand.

“I’m right,” she says firmly, certain. “And I- fuck,” she tilts her head consideringly. “Last night, I- I liked that. I’d like to do that again.” Lovett takes a deep breath. Favs is still holding her own breath. “I like _you_. I think I might love you Jon Favreau.”

Favs’ heart stops. Her hands, at her sides, are clenched into fists. This can’t work. Lovett shrugs a little, sheepish, and takes a step back. Favs doesn’t want her to do that. “Me too,” she blurts before she can think it through. “I- Me- you too,” she stutters. “Jon Lovett,” she giggles. 

Lovett beams like the sun, reaching out to catch Favs’ hands in her own. “We should- all three of us. When Tommy gets home,” she promises.

Favs nods and squeezes Lovett’s hands. She’s terrified, but she’s never felt more… free. “Yes.”

  


 

 **Richmond, Virginia: September 21, 1787**  

Tommy’s heart starts beating faster as she walks down the familiar street, her feet automatically picking their way home. Four months is too long to miss the arching boughs of the magnolias, the red of the cobblestones, the rising columns of the new Capitol building over the trees, the smell of tobacco wafting from the docks. Even one month was far too long to miss the bright sound of Lovett’s laugh, the clatter of type, Favs’ shy smile. 

She hopes they’ve reached some kind of peace while she was gone. Both so that she can stop feeling torn between them, but also because she’s certain they’d both be better off. At least, she reflects, she’s picked up some conflict management strategies from the tense arguments of the convention. 

Tommy’s still running through the mental list she’s been developing of stories she should lead with, that Lovett will like best, when she reaches the picture windows of the print shop and she stops in her tracks. Lovett is bent over the press, Thomas held on her hip, guiding his small hands to set type. But the thing that makes Tommy’s heart feel like it’s about to burst is Favs’ hand on Lovett’s shoulder, leaning towards them, her hair cascading over her shoulders, free and loose.

It takes effort to shake herself loose from watching them, achingly domestic and close, and push the door open. Lovett barely bothers to set the baby on the ground befores she’s tripping over her own feet diving for Tommy.

Tommy catches her easily, giggling as she steadies Lovett and Lovett desperately, greedily, pulls her down into a fierce kiss.

When they separate to breathe, Lovett bites her lip and then nods, quick, before twisting in Tommy’s arms. Tommy looks up to see Favs hovering by the edge of the press.

“Come. Here,” Lovett hisses, reaching out for Favs. Favs lets Lovett tow her close by a hand while Tommy stares at them in shock. 

Lovett rearranges their arms, bossy, so that Tommy’s arm rests around Favs’ back and all of them are… so close. Favs’ waist is warm and firm under her arm, narrower than Lovett’s familiar shape. Tommy’s eyes dart between the two of them, wide and questioning. 

She hadn’t dared to hope.

“Are you- are you sure?” she asks Lovett, voice shaking.

"Just fucking kiss her already please," Lovett orders, certain.

Tommy huffs a laugh and turns to Favs, keeping her other hand tight around Lovett's waist. Favs looks nervous, face tight with suppressed nervous energy, but she's smiling from her mouth to her eyes.

“Yeah?” Tommy whispers, disbelieving.

“Yes,” Favs says, voice strong and sure. Tommy, embarrassingly, whimpers a little, unable to hold in the emotions overflowing in her chest.

She can’t make any more words come out, so she moves her hand up Favs’ back to pull her closer and lowers her head, just a little, until their lips finally _finally_ meet.

Kissing Favs is nothing and everything like she’d thought it would be in her most secretive teenage daydreams. She’s warm and responsive under Tommy’s mouth and her lips taste sharp, somehow, lighting Tommy up with long repressed desire. 

“Tommy!” a small voice yells, ruining the moment. Tommy’s only annoyed briefly though, as Thomas launches himself at her waist with a bright smile.

“Hey sweetie!” she says, lifting him to her hip as she reluctantly lets go of Favs and Lovett. 

“Lovett made… cornbread,” he says carefully. Tommy raises an eyebrow at Lovett over his head

“Just cornbread?” she teases.

“No,” Lovett says, dignified. “There is also beef fricassee.” She glances at Favs with a smirk. “With tomato sauce.”

Favs breaks into inexplicable giggles. Tommy just rolls her eyes affectionately. It’s good to be home.

 

***

 

When Tommy has listened to a million excited stories from Thomas, and told him a bedtime story about a prince in a tower and the brave knight who rescued him, his eyes finally close. Lovett wastes no time in gesturing emphatically towards their bedroom.

Tommy kisses her gently in the hallway for as long as Lovett will allow until she squirms away. “Bed,” Lovett says firmly. “No more kissing until we’re horizontal.” Tommy laughs and loosens her grip so that Lovett can flounce down the hall. 

Favs is frozen by the door, face timid and shy. “Hey,” Tommy says softly, wrapping an arm around her and gently tugging her forward. “You want to, right?”

Favs nods, quick and fierce. “Yes Tommy, please,” she whispers, leaning into Tommy’s touch. Mindful of Lovett’s instruction, Tommy leads Favs to the bed and pushes her gently onto the mattress before climbing on top of her to kiss her, deep, and filthier than the first kiss in the shop or the quick pecks while they finished dinner.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Tommy whispers against her lips when she pulls back to let Favs breathe. Favs just whines and pulls her back down.

The bed shifts as Lovett finds a spot by their heads. When Tommy looks up, she’s watching intently, her mouth a tight line, nervous, even as her eyes look hungry. Tommy sits up a bit, not moving from her place on top of Favs to tug Lovett close and show her just how far away those nerves should go.

“I fucking love you,” Tommy says into Lovett’s mouth as they kiss sloppily. Lovett grunts, hand reaching, as always, directly for Tommy’s shirt.

“I fucking love your breasts,” Lovett says, when she’s removed it, which means the same thing.

They kiss, Lovett’s hands roaming, until Favs makes a desperate noise beneath them. Her pupils are blown wide when Tommy looks down, her mouth parted as she breathes noisily. 

“Hey darling,” Lovett croons, as she pushes Tommy off of Favs. “Sorry to neglect you.”

Lovett, motivated as always, peels Favs out of her shift and borrowed pair of Tommy’s pants, _Lovett kept yelling at me about my skirts getting caught in the press!_ , in what must be a record amount of time while Tommy sheds her own pants. Favs flushes and reaches out for Tommy as soon as Lovett has her naked.  

Tommy curls around her easily. “You okay?” she checks, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Favs has a death grip on Tommy’s right arm where it rests against her side. 

“Mmhmm,” Favs nods, face tilting up for a kiss. “Just… feeling exposed.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Lovett says lightly, leaning close to kiss Favs’ cheek and lips before sliding down the bed, eyes dark with intent. 

“You are,” Tommy confirms, alternating kisses to Favs’ cheek and neck and lips with glances down to where Lovett is slowly moving her lips and fingers across Favs’ chest. “So so beautiful,” she repeats.

Lovett is a master at excruciatingly slow buildup. The way she’s working her way down Favs’ body is slower and gentler and more delicate than she’d ever be with Tommy, likely feeling, as Tommy is, the way Favs’ heart is racing like it’s about to beat out of her chest from nerves. Tommy keeps kissing and whispering sweet nonsense while Lovett does her thing until Favs’ heartbeat shifts to a different quick rhythm and she's gasping for air as Lovett  kisses and caresses her thighs. 

“I…” Favs gasps, “What are- ah!”

Tommy holds her close, one hand tangled in her hair, the other, which Favs is still clinging to for dear life, gently stroking her side as Lovett finally pushes Favs’ legs apart and settles between them. Tommy watches carefully as Lovett kisses Favs’ stomach and the tops of her thighs while her fingers slip between Favs’ legs. 

Favs makes little keening noises that get louder and louder while Lovett focuses, moving in a way Tommy can’t quite see. It’s less than a minute later when Favs gasps and arches. “Oh!” she yelps adorably. 

Lovett’s head pops up, hands coming to rest on Favs sides while she breathes deep. Tommy doesn’t let her hands slow their steady strokes.

“What…” Favs whispers finally, voice shaking with, wonder? She ducks her chin to her chest, cheeks flushing, the way she used to at eleven, thirteen, seventeen, when she inadvertently revealed that she didn’t know where Holland was and she was sure Tommy and Andy were going to tease her for it. Like she does when she’s embarrassed and lost and confused, and all of a sudden Tommy gets it.

“Favs, babe, have you never?” Tommy asks, trying to disguise the anger in her voice as concern, hide the way she suddenly wants, more than ever, to strangle the titled, rich _man_ who’d failed to even make sure she felt good when he was lucky to have her in his bed.  

Favs shakes her head and turns her face to hide in the pillows. Tommy’s heart aches and her blood boils until Lovett’s hand squeezes her shoulder gently. Tommy draws a calming breath and reaches for Favs’ chin, turning her back to kiss her tenderly and whisper conspiratorially “she’s good, isn’t she?”

Tommy doesn’t dare turn to look, but she hears Lovett’s satisfied chuckle when Favs says low and desperate “ _yes._ ”

“I’m going to make you feel so good sweetheart,” Lovett murmurs. Tommy doesn’t take her hands or eyes off of Favs’ flushed cheeks, tracking Lovett’s fingers and mouth by the familiarity of the sound of her breath and groans as Favs arches and gasps and moans one, two, three more times until she’s floating too high to be ashamed anymore.

Finally Lovett must be satisfied, or sure that Favs can’t take any more, appearing in Tommy’s peripheral vision with a pleased smirk and sloppy chin, pulling her shirt over her head. Tommy reaches a hand to pull Lovett in until she’s sprawled on Favs’ other side. 

Tommy leaves one hand loosely on Favs’ cheek as she leans over to kiss Lovett. Her other hand reaches over to stroke down Lovett’s side. It’s not the best angle, but she manages, kissing Lovett’s neck and sucking on her collarbone where she likes it, while Tommy’s hand slips between Lovett’s thighs, practiced and smooth.

Lovett is squeezing around her fingers when Favs, returned to the world of the living, kisses Tommy’s shoulder and murmurs, timid, "show me how?" 

“Of course,” Tommy says, looking down at Favs’ glowing face. Lovett groans theatrically and Tommy laughs. “Fair play,” she teases. 

Tommy has to stop touching them briefly to get them both where she wants them, pushing Favs onto her side so she’s facing Lovett, where Tommy can curl close behind her. She sits up to shove at Lovett until she shifts up farther on the pillows, at a better angle. Then, Tommy carefully takes one of Favs’ hands in hers and slides close. 

Tommy moves slow and careful, to not overwhelm Favs with everything at once. The extra benefit is definitely that where Lovett has been gentler and more delicate with Favs than she is with Tommy, Tommy can get Lovett torturously on edge in the guise of teaching Favs. 

“Like that,” she murmurs, readjusting Favs’ hand so the pressure is just right, not quite enough.

“Tommy,” Lovett curses, head rolling against the pillows.

Tommy smirks and lets go of Favs’ hand to trace patterns on Lovett’s thighs and stomach as Lovett squirms, frustrated. 

Tommy doesn’t have to tell Favs to slip the first finger in, she figures that out all on her own. She does twist Favs' hand to position it right. “Try another finger,” she whispers, too low for Lovett to hear, and reaches her own hand higher in concert with Favs’ motion to touch Lovett just right. 

“Fuck!” Lovett nearly shouts as she comes and Tommy and Favs’ heads whip towards the door at the same time. No noise comes from the hallway, thank god. “Tommy, off,” Lovett orders, clumsy fingers shoving at their wrists.

“C’mere Favs,” Tommy says, tugging her back and holding her close while Lovett recovers. She drops her face into Favs’ neck and shoulders, “that was perfect.” Tommy doesn’t think she could ever get tired of kissing Favs and whispering sweet things to her. It’s still as lovely with Lovett as it was the first time, six years ago.

Lovett finally stretches and makes a contented noise. Favs pushes up onto an elbow, making some face at Lovett that Tommy can't see before she twists her head. "Tommy," she says, insistent.

Lovett says, "yes babe, good call, Tommy’s turn," before somehow managing to fling herself over both of them and push Tommy onto her back in one motion. Favs looks very impressed, Tommy just laughs at her.

“Yes?” Tommy giggles, looking at Lovett’s flushed face above her and reaching to tug at a loose curl.

“Fair play,” Lovett nearly cackles and Tommy throws her head back, already regretting this. 

“Shit.”

“You know what’s beautiful?” Lovett asks rhetorically, hands reaching for Favs. “There are two of us, Tommy has two nipples, it’s a perfect match.” 

Tommy moans, already ready to die with anticipation. They play with her breasts for what feels like forever, Lovett gently pushing Favs around.  "Pinch her there, right over the rib, yeah that’s it," she directs as Tommy squirms.

"Use your teeth, you're not going to hurt her I promise,” It takes Favs two tries to figure out the right amount, to pull a desperate moan out of Tommy’s throat. 

Then she does it again.

And again. 

And again, as Lovett copies her on the other side.

"Lovett," Tommy gasps, meaning would you get on with it?, meaning not that this isn’t lovely but-, meaning if you don’t do something more I’m going to die right here.

Lovett drags Tommy’s nipple through her teeth hard. “Mine,” she says sharp, controlling.

Tommy nods, eyes watering. “Yours,” she agrees. 

Lovett grins and sets a hand on Favs’ head, guiding her down.

Tommy’s thighs ache with the stretch as Lovett shoves them as far apart as they'll go, straddling one of Tommy’s legs. Favs slides down between her spread thighs eagerly. 

Tommy has to close her eyes for a moment at the visual. She reaches a hand down, blind. “Favs. you don't have to..."

"I want to,” Favs says, earnest and eager, deploying the tricks Tommy already showed her until Tommy’s head falls back into the pillows. “Beautiful,” Favs whispers as her free hand trails up Tommy’s stomach. “Look at me Tom,” she says, firm.

“God,” Tommy groans. Her head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but she manages to lift it until she can see her girls.

“Here baby,” Lovett purrs, pushing an extra pillow under Tommy’s head before moving back to shove Tommy’s thighs even further apart. “Eyes on us.”

Favs looks up at them through her eyelashes. "Show me?" she asks Lovett, voice sweet. Tommy shivers. 

"Good god you got confident and dangerous fast," Lovett says. Favs dimples at her and shifts just a tiny bit to rest her cheek on Tommys leg. 

At first, Lovett takes her time, showing off and pausing to give commentary to Favs. Tommy loses it quickly, breathing quick and harsh and not getting any air in her lungs, entire being focused on the burn in her hips and thighs and the heat building in her whole body, barely managing to keep her eyes on them like she was told. 

"Put a hand back on her tits," Lovett mutters and suddenly Favs is pinching and Lovett’s tongue is pushing in deep and Tommy can’t breathe, can’t look, can’t do anything but feel the wave rushing over her as she comes.

As she’s coming back down to earth, hearing Lovett’s harsh breath echoing her own, Tommy’s eyes blink open to see Favs gently stroke through Lovett's curls. “My turn."

Tommy could cry. 

It only takes a few seconds of Favs’ mouth on her before Tommy _does_ cry, sobs and gasps shaking her body until Lovett leaves her watchful position by Favs’ head to cradle Tommy’s head in her lap, anchoring her.

"Tell her Tommy," Lovett whispers. 

Tommy chokes on air, before the words come tumbling out, pushed by the force of twenty years of love and _wanting,_ "God Favs, you're so, so good baby, I can't believe, so good, so much, you’re making me feel," Favs’ lips tighten, experimentally or in reaction and Tommy can’t hold on, “Jon!” she cries, meaning either of them, meaning both of them, as her head slams into Lovett’s stomach and her thighs clench around Favs.  

Lovett has already tugged Favs halfway up when Tommy recovers enough to assist. “Here,” she pleads, pulling at Favs’ shoulders til she’s close enough to kiss, deep and claiming. Tommy’s arms feel like jelly, but she wraps them around Favs’ as tight as she can. “God, Jon, you’re incredible,” she murmurs when their lips part. 

Favs stares at her for what feels like forever, eyes sparkling with joy and affection. Finally she smiles wide. “I love you,” she says, soft. 

"I love you so so much," Tommy says, kissing her forehead. "You too, I love you so much," she says in Lovett’s direction, shifting so she can tug Lovett down beside them, so she can hold them both close.

Lovett sighs performatively, but she nestles in close. “Yes, yes, you saps,” she grumbles. Tommy’s eyes slip closed before Lovett continues, but she hears her all the same. “I love you both too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always yelling about these idiots on [tumblr](everyonewillsee.tumblr.com)


End file.
